Monday, May 5, 2014

Haven't I gone through enough?

The day after I was released from the hospital, I found myself struggling. Not because I missed the twins, although that played a big part, but because I couldn't breathe. With all of the issues I'd had, before and after delivery, I was unable to pump my breast milk for the twins. My breasts were extremely enlarged, and at this point, hard as rocks.

I actually tried to pump the day after I delivered, but I had zero energy and my body was still trying to get back to a normal level of functioning. I pumped for a good half hour on each side and got no more than a drop. As frustrated as I was, I had no fight left in me to continue to try. It was something I was going to have to let go.

So I was stuck with breasts that felt like boulders until my body realized I wasn't going to nurse. As if I hadn't had enough pain and suffering, this was just another thing to add to the list.

All day, I tried to lay down to take a nap. I was exhausted and knew that sleep was going to be the best thing to get me back to normal. Every time I tried to lay down, however, I felt like I was gasping for air and it felt as though someone was sitting on my chest making it impossible for me to breathe. That person being what I thought were my giant boobs. So, I tried to sleep sitting up.

After a few minutes of that, I realized my mid-day nap was just not going to happen. I focused on other things and tried to visit with family who had stopped by to check on me.

That night is when I realized something more than enlarged breasts was going on. After my mom had gone to sleep, and Peyton was fast asleep too, I was still struggling. I called the nurse after-hours line and waited to speak to someone. As I was on hold, I kept hoping they would tell me that I just needed to take a hot shower, ibuprofen and that would help. Boy was I wrong.

As soon as I described my symptoms, I was told I needed to go to the emergency room right away to be seen. Not only that, but I needed to go back to where I delivered the twins. That was an hour away.

I woke my mom, who in hopes of a good night's sleep had taken her heavy dose of sleeping pills, and told her we needed to go back to the hospital. I called our babysitter and dropped Peyton off, and realized my mom was in no condition to drive.

I was going to have to drive, an hour away, to the hospital in the awesome condition I was in, while my mom slept in the passenger seat.

That drive was the worst drive I've ever made in my life. Thankfully, it was past midnight and the traffic on the road was basically non-existent. That's the only good thing.

I was weeping by the time I arrived at the emergency room entrance, having just driven an hour in horrendous pain. I didn't want to be back at the hospital, I didn't want to be in pain, and the last person I wanted to see was another nurse with needles and IV equipment.

I checked in and was immediately put in a wheelchair. Apparently they could tell I needed to be there. I was wheeled to a room right away and hooked up to monitors and given warm blankets to "get comfortable." Ha! As if that were remotely possible. Were they not listening when I said I couldn't lay down?

Eventually, a doctor came in and said they wanted to run tests and get an image of my lungs via MRI.
I don't know if you've ever gotten an MRI, or watched House, M.D. Or Grey's Anatomy enough to know what it consists of, but they wanted me to LAY DOWN on this awesomely small "bed" and slide me into a tube for imaging. Lucky for them, I didn't want to make an ass out of myself, but I seriously considered the fact that every person in the hospital that day was an idiot and I was tempted to tell them. How did they expect me to lay flat for longer than 2 seconds when I couldn't breathe when I did that? That was the exact reason I was back here in this awful place to begin with.

I tried, however, to please them, and laid down. For probably a total of 2 seconds before I freaked out and gasped for air. Now they could understand what I meant! Their solution? Let's drug her! So, within minutes I was given a shot of Ativan to calm me down in hopes I could get through the test. It worked, but also caused me to be completely out of it for the rest of the night and well into the next day.

I was admitted due to the fluid they found in my lungs, which explained the inability to breathe when I laid down. Fluid in my lungs I could deal with, because that was easily remedied.

That was until probably the only smart person in that place decided that in addition to the MRI, someone should take a look at my heart to see how it was holding up. Good call, doc.

The only thing I remember from the doctor explaining to me what was wrong with my heart were five words, "You can't get pregnant again."

2 comments: